


Pushy, Aren't You?

by matchst_ck



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I love these guys, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Not Canon Complaint After S5, True Love, mickey should be happy always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchst_ck/pseuds/matchst_ck
Summary: "Ian is pushy.Not physically, not all the time at least. Although Mickey has been on the receiving end of some harsh punches, but has thankfully lived to tell the tale. Sometimes Ian doesn’t even do it overtly, but he does it sneakily, all passive aggressive and it grates Mickey the wrong way, puts him on edge and he doesn’t like the feeling."---Mickey thinks back over some memories as we get a glimpse of the present.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew I'd knock this one out in a day so soon after my first Gallavich story? Considering the immense writers block I've felt recently I'm quite proud :) Mickey Milkovich deserves all the happiness I can give him, so you may want to get checked for cavities after this or any future Gallavich I may write XD
> 
> I really hope you enjoy and I'd love to know what you think :)

Ian is pushy.

Not physically, not all the time at least. Although Mickey has been on the receiving end of some harsh punches, but has thankfully lived to tell the tale. Sometimes Ian doesn’t even do it overtly, but he does it sneakily, all passive aggressive and it grates Mickey the wrong way, puts him on edge and he doesn’t like the feeling.

But then he gives in, every time. 

_Gallagher wanted Kash’s gun back? No way. Not happening. Mickey would beat the shit out of the ginger fuck before that happened. Fuck him. Oh, wait. That’s exactly what he did. And then Mickey was dressed and full of nervous energy and felt himself dropping the gun on the bed. Thumbs up, job well done Gallagher._

Mickey scowls at the memory. How easily he’d given in. How Ian had leaned in for that kiss and how he’d certainly not given in to that, not that time at least. He flips the lighter in his hand, slipping it into his parka pocket as he pulls his boots on, lacing them. He tightens his scarf around his neck, pulls his fingerless gloves on so he can smoke but won’t lose any extremities on the way. His eyebrows furrow as he spots the familiar blue wool hat hanging on a coat hook.

“Fucking idiot.” He says smiling, almost sounding fond. He grabs the hat and tucks it into his pocket as he leaves, jiggling the door to ensure it’s locked.

He breathes out a plume of freezing air but it doesn’t stop him from tapping a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting up as he takes the shortcut through the alley. The next memory that his mind dredges up hurts a little more.

_“C’mon Mickey, try it. Please.” Gallagher had pleaded. Whined, even._

_“Fuck off, gingerbread. There’s nothing wrong with the way we’ve been doing it.” Mickey rubs at the scruff on his chin that he hasn’t gotten around to shaving yet._

_“Mick, please. It’ll feel even better, c’mon. And if you don’t like it, we don’t have to do it again. Please?” Gallagher stared at him and as much as he knew that last part was clearly a lie, fuck if Mickey wasn’t about to give in to those green fucking eyes._

_And so they fucked face to face for the first time, Mickey awkwardly letting the younger boy drape one leg over his shoulder. Fucking freckly prick was right too, it did feel fucking good, and deep and Mickey was struggling to keep his facial expressions under control. His eyes were tightly closed but when he popped them open out of sheer goddamn curiosity there was Gallagher, staring down at him, sweaty, smiling and fucking beauti-_

_“Hello boys.”_

_**Fuck.** _

Mickey scowls, tapping his cigarette off roughly as he shakes his head to rid himself of the memory. He checks quickly, right and left, sprinting across the road as he flips off a driver who honks her horn. That one hurt. He’d completely closed off, spouted some bullshit about boyfriends and warm mouths and watched Ian’s eyes brim with tears he never saw fall, too busy planning what do with a body.

But that was then and Ian had forgiven him, as he always had.

Tossing his cigarette tab, he took a quick detour, tugging the door of the local convenience store open and grunting at Fauzia when she greeted him. Fuck knows how he’d managed to build some sort of friendship with the woman but she seemed to have taken a shine to him since the first day he’d come in and taken his purchases to the counter.

_“Six tubs of barbecue Pringles and beer. A man after my own heart, except for the beer of course.” She’d smiled, as he eyed her headscarf before chuckling quietly._

_“Suppose so. Also, lady, you’re out of-” His eyebrows had shot up when she’d held a hand up to stop him speaking and wandered away into the back. She came back with a tub of chive dip and he didn’t think his eyebrows could get any higher at the sight of his favourite flavour._

_“You can have the dip for free.” She’d smiled and he just stood there, gaping like a goldfish._

He still wasn’t used to people being nice to him but he was starting to begrudgingly enjoy it.

He grabbed the energy drink from the shelf, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the flavour and swung by the counter, grabbing the gummy candy from nearby the cash register too. He dropped them in front of Fauzia who chuckled as she rang him up.

“What you laughing for?” Mickey spoke, no malice in his voice. 

“Nothing Mickey, just-” She poked at his goods and took his money, smiling brightly. “Every third Thursday of the month, the same thing. You’re a good man. You know that?”

Mickey could feel the heat rush from somewhere around mid-chest all the way up his face to the tips of his ears. He grabbed the items, mumbling under his breath. Compliments be damned, he still couldn’t take them. From whatever garbled noises came from his throat, he thinks he managed to get out a ‘thank you’ in there somewhere as Fauzia nods at him.

“You’re welcome Mickey.”

He exits the store as fast as he came in.

He tucks the drink and candy into his pocket as he braves baring his wrist to the cold to check the time. Shit. He speeds up his stride a little not wanting to be late. The drink weighs heavily in his pocket, as does Fauzia’s compliment on his mind. Each third Thursday of the month was his rota day off from the garage and so what if he made the same trip, to the same store to buy the same things for the same person? He scowled at himself before he remembered that she’d not been berating him. She thought it was sweet. 

Sweet, Mickey snorted. Yeah, he liked ‘em sweet.

He remembered the day he’d tasted the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted before (and a lot since), for the first time and fuck if he was ever going to admit that out loud.

_“He isn't afraid to kiss me.”_

_And fuck him for that passive aggressive shit, couldn’t even just come out and ask, not that Mickey would have acquiesced. It had taken Mickey 24 hours of deliberation before he’d decided what to do about it and why in anyone’s name he’d decided the middle of that old grandpa’s driveway was a good spot, hell knows._

_But he remembers distinctly, how it felt to turn around and jog back to the van. That nervous energy that felt like it was the only thing keeping him going. The hard, wet press of his lips to Ian’s. He remembered breathing in, smelling the smoke from the freshly lit cigarette and just the natural way that Ian smelled. Then pulling back, hopping out of the van unable to keep the smile from his face or his middle finger from celebrating with a salute, the sweetness that lingered on his lips when his tongue came out to savour the flavour._

He grinned as the memory faded warmly and he realised he’d reached his destination. He pulled the door open, hopping into the warmth as he went to take a seat at the reception. Nodding at the receptionist, he tugged his gloves off and laid them to rest in his lap. He had about 10 minutes to wait he figured, give or take a couple. His eyes drifted shut as he remembers one of the best and worst times he felt Ian push and he felt himself give.

_“I just want everybody here to know, I’m fucking gay.”_

Oh and the fall out of that one was particularly bad, he still has a chipped tooth to show for it and he can still feel the dread of watching Ian almost walk out of the door. But, and it took him a while to appreciate it, he remembered feeling more free than he’d ever felt before after all was said and done.

And well, maybe he needed the push. Hell, of course he needed the push. But look where he was now. It all worked out in the end.

“Hey.” He heard the soft murmur the same time he felt fingers brushing down his cheek. He opened his eyes slowly, red filling his vision as Ian leaned down to press his lips to Mickey’s forehead. “You tired?”

Mickey smiled, pushing himself up to stand as he watched Ian hitch his duffel bag over his shoulder. “Nah man, just thinking.” 

Ian grinned, taking his hand as they exited the gym. “Thinking about what?” Ian frowned a little when Mickey didn’t answer, as he tugged his hand out of Ian’s hold for a second. Mickey pulled the blue wool hat from his pocket and stretched up to pull it over Ian’s floppy, slightly damp hair.

“You forgot this again, you’ll catch a cold if you keep coming out of there without drying your hair first.” Mickey frowned, hearing the mother hen-nish way that had come out. “Shithead.” He tacked on.

Ian laughed. “Thanks Mick.” He readjusted the hat as Mickey handed him the energy drink and candy. Mickey grinned at the moan that left the redheads mouth at the sight. This happened every time and Mickey couldn’t get enough. “Aw, yes Mick. I fucking love these.” Ian pulled the bag open, proceeding to shove half the bag into his mouth. 

He offered the bag out to Mickey who shook his head. Ian shrugged, chomping down the rest before he stuffed the empty packet into his pocket. Chewing noisily, he swallowed as he popped the ring pull on the drink. “Shotgun.” He spoke, before chugging a few gulps. He passed it over to Mickey who did the same, grimacing at the taste. 

“That stuff still tastes like crap. How was work?” Mickey dropped the now empty drink into a nearby trashcan as he took Ian’s hand again, lips tilting up into a smile as Ian proceeded to tell him about his day, leaving nothing out. By the time they reached their apartment Mickey had heard quite enough about wrinkly old men trying to show off on the treadmill and pulling muscles they didn’t know they had. 

Door closed behind them, Ian shivered. “Pretty chilly in here, lemme put the heating on.” He took a couple of steps before Mickey grabbed him by the arm, tugging him around.

“Or, we could save on the heating bill and just get into bed instead?” He grinned as Ian laughed, leaning up to press his lips to his boyfriends. Soft presses turn into more heated licks as they stumble towards the bedroom, ridding each other of clothes as they do. Down to their boxers, Ian really is shivering now so Mickey’s quick to press him to the bed, pushing him little by little until he gets under the covers.

Mickey dives under with him, yelling when Ian presses cold fingertips to his chest. “Fuck, your hands are cold.” He grins, holding Ian’s hands in his own to warm them.

“You know what they say Mick, cold hands warm heart.” Ian smiles.

And Mickey stills, simply looking at Ian who stops fidgeting when he realises he’s being studied. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, like Mickey does sometimes when Ian does the same for too long. It’s not that he doesn’t like Ian looking, he just still can’t quite understand sometimes exactly what it is he’s seeing. 

But when Mickey looks at Ian he sees everything. For now he can ignore the hardness in his boxers, he can even ignore the hardness in Ian’s, regardless of how persistently it’s pressing into his hipbone. He sees the boy he met when he was a hard, thuggish, teen too afraid to be who he was. He sees the adolescent that made all the wrong choices when he was diagnosed bipolar. But most importantly he sees the man he loves, the man he’s loved for going on 10 years now. And he realises how often he _doesn’t_ tell him that.

“Ian.” He’s quiet, but they’re pressed so closely together, there’s no way Ian will miss it. “I love you. I love you so much.” He kisses him, even as Ian’s eyes widen and his lips tip up at the sides in a smile. “Don’t ever leave me.” Blue eyes implore.

Ian’s now warmer fingertips come up to hold Mickey gently by the chin. “Never Mick. Where would I go? You’re it for me. For life. I love you too.” He kisses Mickey now, sliding over him and pushing his head back into the pillow. Ian’s fingers slide up into his hair, tugging gently as his tongue licks at the back of his teeth. Ian pulls back, noses brushing and a wide grin on his face. “Now roll over.”

Mickey laughs at the order but ultimately does as he’s told, feeling Ian’s warmth pressing into the soft skin of his back as Ian kisses his way down his spine. He smiles into the pillow.

Ian’s still a pushy fucker. But Mickey wouldn’t change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr :)](https://matchst-ck.tumblr.com/)


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